


Late Nights

by Ginger_Ninja_405



Category: Alien (Prequel Movies), Prometheus - Fandom, alien covenant
Genre: David's POV, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Reader Insert, Smut, interrupting crew members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 23:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14175750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginger_Ninja_405/pseuds/Ginger_Ninja_405
Summary: Musing late at night about his human lover beside him, from David's POV.





	Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written from a male's POV, so forgive me if it's weird...

I shift my gaze from the bare wall, over to my human for the twenty seventh time tonight. She’s nestled up against me, closer than I suspect is truly comfortable, but there isn’t much room to stretch out in this tiny excuse for a bed assigned to me by my creators and owners. She always says that she prefers my bed to hers. I can’t imagine why.

I listen to the faint sound of her breathing, slowed down from sleep. Her warm breath continues to puff against my naked chest, but the intermittent heat doesn’t bother me. It comforts me, reminds me that this living thing has chosen me. Her knees are interwoven with mine, one of her hands clutched to her own chest, the other around my slim waist. I know that she enjoys the narrowness of my torso, she even tells me occasionally that she’s jealous of how slender I am. I always respond that she is foolish to envy such a thing, that I am fully satisfied with all the shapes, concave and convex, that make up her body. And it’s true, I enjoy the shape of her waist, the flare of her hips, the swell of her breasts, even the narrowness of her slender ankles. She says they’re weak, I tell her they’re lovely.

I feel her body begin to twist, and I loosen my embrace to allow her to turn 180 degrees in her sleep, her back pressed to my chest now. I feel her body conform to mine again, feel the swell of her cheeks press into the juncture of my thighs…another feature of hers that I take pleasure in. I adjust my arms to fit this new position, my right slipping around her waist to pull her more flush to my body, my left hand combing through her hair. It smells of some kind of artificial flower, her shampoo, and I gather my fingers in it into a gentle fist…she enjoys it when I occasionally tug at her hair while we…well, that is of course reserved for when she is awake. I draw all of her hair away from the side of her neck that is exposed to the circulated and re-circulated air of the ship, lean over and press my lips to the healing bruise created by my mouth. I discovered early on that she finds pleasure in my suckling at her throat, her chest, and that she wears the marks I leave behind with pride, the marks of our moments of passion.

I lower my mouth a little to suck at an unmarked patch of skin, and I feel her shift slightly, her bottom pressing closer against my groin. I feel myself stiffen there from the contact, and I increase the pressure of my mouth on her neck. She’s awake now, she hasn’t spoken or opened her eyes, moved any other part of her body, but her breathing has changed. It’s more shallow, and when I press myself against her through the fabric we each wear over our private areas, she lets out the softest moan. “You don’t fool me,” I whisper, and her right hand is reaching behind her to grasp at my hip and pull me closer to her. I press myself against her, sucking harder against the flesh beneath my lips, and a whimper escapes her. Her hand grasps my own, the one wrapped around her waist, and moves it to press against the fabric-covered junction of her thighs. I can feel heat radiate though the cloth, my fingers pressing against the soft flesh underneath and she presses her buttocks more firmly against me.

I pull my hand away and she lets out a disappointed sigh from the loss. I nuzzle against her neck and the sensitive skin just below her ear as I grip her upper leg and draw it back carefully against my legs, opening her up to more exploratory touches. She gasps as my fingers graze over her parted thighs, purposefully avoiding where I know she needs me most. Needs. She needs me. I never tire of her telling me that she needs me. With the hand I have wound up in her hair, I tilt her face toward mine and press my lips to hers as I run my digits over the rim of her cotton panties (she’s mentioned to me that she wishes she had something sexy to wear for me, but lingerie stores don’t exist in space yet - I tell her she is beautiful in everything she chooses to or chooses not to wear). She’s grinding herself against my groin slowly, thighs still parted as I slip my hand inside her thin underwear and ghost a finger over her clit. I feel her press her tongue into my mouth as she thrusts against my hand, no doubt trying to get more contact. I prod at her mouth with my own tongue, but I draw my hand out of her underthings and a frustrated noise rises in her throat. I open my eyes when she pulls away, and it takes some effort not to smirk at the frustrated look in her eyes. “Do you want me?” I whisper, and the look of frustration grows. She knows that I know she wants me, but it’s too enjoyable to watch her squirm. My hand finds her hip, and I slowly press it into the mattress, pressing her body face down against my small bed. I climb atop her and straddle her thighs, running a finger up and down her spine, splaying my fingers over the small of her back. She whimpers when I grip her hair and hold it away from her neck, pressing my mouth against the nape and over to her shoulder before I sit back up, shuffling back over the bed and guiding her hips up so that her rear is elevated in front of me.

She shimmies her hips a little to assist me as I clutch the sides of the fabric that pass for panties, and I drag the article down her thighs, leaving her glistening flesh exposed to the air and my vision. I grip her rounded cheeks, digging my fingers slightly into the soft flesh, and I lean forward to tease one side with my teeth. She parts her thighs as much as she can in her somewhat awkward position, dropping her upper body even more into the bed and exposing her arousal even more to my senses. I decide to give in, if only a little, and slide a single digit through the moisture gathering from within her sex, drawing it away just as quickly. I glance down at my finger, the Weyland emblem dampened by her fluid, and I slide my tongue over it when she looks back over her shoulder at me. I watch her brows knit together in frustration, hiding my own amusement. She’s such a joy to tease. Keeping eye contract with her, I slowly descend toward her moist flesh and her eyes fall closed in contentment as I finally run my tongue over the length of her slit. I’ve teased her enough, I decide, and while her face is buried in the underfilled pillow below her, I shift and turn my body so that I am on my back, scooting up between her open legs, and I draw her hips down until I can reach her damp heat with my tongue. She trembles above me, trying to adjust herself so that she straddles my face comfortably, my hands reaching up to clutch her thighs. My natural instinct is to close my eyes and let her feed me her delicious sex, but I can’t look away from her face. Her lips are parted, her breathing is ragged, and she’s thrusting so slightly against my mouth that I doubt she’s even aware of it. She’s so aroused from my previous teasing that within minutes, her fingers are clutching my bleached hair, her other hand gripping the sheets below me in an attempt to keep her balance. My hands grasp her thighs and hold her close to me as her whimpers suddenly turn into cries, and she is climaxing against my lips, and I know that I should have chosen a position that would allow her to keep quiet and not alert the crew to our situation, but I thrive on those cries, those satisfied moans.

She collapses forward onto the bed, obscuring my vision, but I remain as I am, massaging my fingers against her thighs and rear comfortingly as she comes down from her peak. I press a soft kiss to her thigh and she twitches around me.

Just as I’m about to slide out from under her so I can take her soaked entrance from behind, a pounding noise suddenly comes from the other side of the door, and we both hear a very irritated Ms. Vickers, proclaiming that no one wants to hear our “disgusting sex noises.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a short little thing that came to me last night, since I haven't posted anything in a while. I have a whole David 8/OC series if you haven't read it yet - if you liked this at all, you should check it out :)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! Thank you!


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